Learning Curve
by Kristine Thorne
Summary: This is the sequel to True Confessions.


Disclaimer: All characters belong to the BBc. 

A/N: This follows True confessions. 

Learning Curve

Everything he did the following day was barely acknowledged by Ric, his usual attentiveness to his job being never more absent. It was something to do with him hardly having slept, he supposed, that and the dull, throbbing awareness of what he had done. He moved through the departments that required his attention, replying in monosyllabic answers, giving only the bare minimum of his attention to what he was being asked to do. When he answered a summons to AAU, Jess took one look at him, a chill of recognition running the length of her spine. Sean seemed none the wiser, but then he hadn't ever seen her father after losing a spectacular amount of money, full of apologies and promises never to do it again. Sean simply thought that Ric must be hung over, after getting drunk on the money he'd borrowed from him the day before. Sean hadn't batted an eyelid at Ric's asking to borrow from him, because he was aware of Ric's situation, and anything to help out his soon to be father-in-law. Ric had probably needed to go out and get a bit plastered, after the shock of finding out who was the real father of Jess's baby. But when Ric had examined the patient and left, Sean commented on his less than sunny disposition. "Reckon your dad must have had a good time last night," He said, watching Jess write up the patient's chart. "He must have got wasted, if he spent the whole of that fifty quid I lent him." "You what," Jess said, looking up at him in horror. "Well, it isn't pay day till next week," Sean explained, not immediately understanding. "So he asked if he could borrow some money." "Sean!" Jess hissed at him. "You do not lend my dad money. You know he had a gambling habit, and the last few days is precisely the kind of thing that would have pushed him back into it." "Oh, shit," Sean said with feeling. "I'm sorry, I didn't think." "Sean, giving an addicted gambler hard cash, is like giving an alcoholic a bottle of whisky. You just, don't, do it." 

Later that morning, when Ric and Diane, plus Connie and a locum registrar were working on yet another RTA, Connie knew that there was definitely something different about Ric today. More than twice now, Diane had been forced to call his attention to something he ought to have noticed as a matter of course, and he was actively taking a backseat, encouraging her to lead in an operation that was almost beyond her expertise. "Ric, do you mind keeping your head on the job for longer than five minutes?" Diane demanded exasperatedly, as she desperately tried to stem an awkwardly placed bleed. But Ric's behaviour simply didn't improve. They got through the operation successfully, but that was no thanks to him. As Ric backed away from the table and removed his gloves, Connie's firm tones accosted him. "My office, Mr. Griffin, now," She said, leaving absolutely no room for argument. Silently Ric followed on her heels as she stalked down the corridor, knowing he was in for a formal reprimand if he wasn't careful. Sweeping dramatically through the door of her abode, Connie waited for him to enter, and then slammed the door behind him. "What the hell has got into you today?" She demanded angrily, and he could feel every quiver of her rage in the air around him. "Well, are you going to dignify me with an answer?" She said when he didn't immediately reply. He opened his mouth, trying to find the right words to tell her, to explain to her what a useless specimen of humanity he was, but he couldn't. "Ric, this really isn't like you," She said, calming down a little because she could see that something was badly wrong. "But I can't have you putting a patient's life in jeopardy, no matter what the problem is." "She lived, didn't she," Was his slightly belligerent reply. He didn't mean to take this out on her, especially not on her, but he just couldn't help it. "No thanks to your less than usual attentiveness," Connie told him curtly. "Ric, you're really not on the ball today, and when a surgeon goes into theatre, they need to be one hundred percent up to the task." "Yes, I know, and I'm sorry," He said regretfully, though in truth he was apologising for far more than this. "What's suddenly happened to make you like this?" She asked, and it almost broke his heart. How could he tell her? Just how was he supposed to tell her what he'd done? "Connie, I have to be somewhere," He said quietly, not wanting to get into this now, if ever. "Stay and talk to me," She said, knowing there was something enormous she was missing, but being entirely unable to work out what it was. "Not now," He said, refusing to meet her eyes, though what he really wanted was to be held, just for a little while, in those soft and gentle arms of hers. But if she knew what he'd done, she probably wouldn't want to come anywhere near him again. As he walked out of her office door and closed it carefully behind him, Connie knew that she shouldn't have let him go. 

They all moved through the rest of the day, Ric trying as hard as possible to keep it together, and both Jess and Connie intermittently worrying about him. "I'm really sorry, Jess," Sean said for what felt like the millionth time, as they filled in the many charts and forms together after their day's shift. "There's something I need to do, before we go home," Jess replied, the idea having nagged at her all afternoon. "I don't know if it'll work, but anything's worth a try." She knew she would be taking a pretty big risk in talking to Connie about this, but it was no worse than the risk Ric had probably taken the night before. But as she made her way up to Darwin, she couldn't help but wonder just what she might be setting in motion by doing this. She might be completely barking up the wrong tree, but she was certain that there was far more between her father and Connie than was immediately apparent on the surface. When she got there, she saw Lisa and Diane standing at the desk, clearly going over a patient's file. "How's the bump?" Lisa asked in greeting. "Getting in training for the rugby team," Jess said distractedly, resting a brief hand on her jutting stomach. "Have either of you seen my dad?" "Not for quite a while, no," Diane answered her, lowering the file to look over the top at her. "Try Connie," Lisa suggested with a knowing smirk. "He always seems to be in her office when he's got a spare moment." "Oh, great," Jess muttered bleakly, though secretly she was relieved. It looked like she really had been right. "Go on," Lisa encouraged. "She's not that bad." "Jess, has something happened?" Diane asked in concern, remembering Ric's lack of attention that morning. "That's what I'm trying to find out," Jess replied, walking resolutely over to the door to Connie's office, and taking a brief moment to marshal her thoughts before knocking. 

"Nurse Griffin, what can I do for you?" Connie said, looking up in surprise when she told Jess to enter. "I thought you might know where my dad is," Jess said, closing the door behind her and looking Connie straight in the eye. "Oh, and why would I be privy to the details of your father's whereabouts?" She asked, knowing this was a little unfair, but wanting to know why Jess was thinking this way. "Because strange as this may seem," Jess replied, sounding confident though not remotely feeling it. "I think there's the slightest possibility that you care." Connie stared at her, totally and utterly stunned. Jess was highly aware that she was flirting with the end of her career by being so forward, but if it would help her dad, she would do it, she owed him that much. "Well," Connie said eventually, clearing her throat a little before gathering her words. "You certainly do possess your father's tenacity for taking risks, though I hope you will refrain, from letting it be known that you managed to make Cruella De Beauchamp well and truly speechless. Now, as you're here, I'm assuming that you have observed Ric's lack of attention to his work today along with everyone else." "You could say that," Jess agreed, thankful to have got the main hurdle over with. "Sit down," Connie invited, seeing that Jess looked unusually tired. As she sank gratefully onto the leather sofa, Jess rested her hands lightly on her stomach, feeling the perpetual movement of the child inside her. "You look as though baby Zubin has been keeping you up at night already," Connie added, her way of letting Jess know that she was aware of some of the problem. "Yeah, he clearly wants to cause me as much hassle as his father," Jess told her ruefully. "How much did dad tell you about all that?" "Enough," Connie replied, still unwilling to reveal just how much time she and Ric had been spending together. "I suspect he was acting all funny today," Jess said slowly, finally getting to the point. "Because I'm pretty sure he's been gambling again." "That, would explain an awful lot," Connie said in dawning realisation. Of course, why hadn't she seen it herself? That's why he hadn't been willing to meet her eyes, that's why he'd refused to talk to her, because he was afraid of admitting to giving in. "He borrowed some money off Sean," Jess continued. "And Sean, not having known dad when he used to gamble on a regular basis, was stupid enough to give it to him." "But what makes you so certain?" Connie asked, wanting to find some reason for not having to take Jess's word. "Because I'd recognise his look of the morning after anywhere," She said in bitter remembrance. "He looked guilty when I saw him this morning, and when dad won't look you in the eye, it's a sure sign that he's done something he's ashamed of. The few times I've seen him after a win, he's been on top of the world, as though nothing can touch him. The last time I saw him like that, I raided his wallet and cut up his credit cards. But most of the time he loses, and his only real defence is to hide. He knows it's wrong, he knows he shouldn't do it, because he knows how terrible he'll feel if he loses, but he still keeps on doing it." "That's the price of an addiction unfortunately," Connie said quietly, briefly thinking that getting information out of someone had never been easier. Jess had been itching to say some of this all day, and perhaps for the last few years, and it almost seemed not to matter to whom she was saying it all now. "We all tried so hard to get him off it," Jess continued regretfully. "Me, Diane, even Zubin, but nothing ever worked. He had to make that decision himself, and when he did, it was great. But you know dad, he absolutely refused anyone else's help when he stopped doing it, because he was determined to do it on his own. Quite how he managed it is beyond me." "What does Diane have to do with this?" Connie wanted to know, that piece of the jigsaw not quite fitting into place. "Dad dated her when she was at med school," Jess filled in without any further prompting. "He really loved her, and I don't think he's ever quite got over her. That was about eight years ago. I think she was the only one of his girlfriends I ever really liked. Well, apart from Sam Kennedy, but she was a manipulative cow who had an insane ability to wind men round her little finger." Thinking that she, herself, had often been described as such, Connie gave a barely perceptible smile. "Sorry," Jess said, on realising just what she was saying. "You don't really want to hear all this. I shouldn't really be here, but I don't know what else to do." She looked so worried for her father, that it briefly softened Connie's heart. "I'm making absolutely no promises," She said gently but firmly. "But I will try and find him, and I'll try to persuade him to talk to me. Whether I actually get anywhere, is anyone's guess. All right?" "Thank you," Jess said, sounding thoroughly relieved. "Since the other day, dad no longer has the one person who used to be able to pull him out of it, at least temporarily. I can't get near him when he's like this, and I think Diane gave up trying a long time ago." "I'll do my best," Connie told her, just hoping that her best would be good enough. 

After Jess had gone, Connie went on the hunt for Diane, knowing that only she could fill in some of the necessary gaps. "Anyone seen Diane?" She asked, going up to the desk where Lisa and Chrissie were fighting over the use of the computer. "She's in the rec room," Lisa told her. The rec room held a kettle, a fridge, and was generally the place where Keller and Darwin staff took the weight off their feet and snatched a quick cup of tea between patients. Diane had appropriated the most comfortable armchair, and was filling in reports over a steaming mug of tea. "Can I interrupt?" Connie asked, going in and closing the door behind her. "Sure," Diane said, finishing the report and looking up at her. Digging a carton of orange juice out of the fridge and pouring herself a glass, Connie sat down opposite Diane. "Is this about a patient?" Diane enquired, uncertain as to what Connie was here for. "No," Connie said after taking a swig. "It's about Ric." "If it's about how he was in theatre," Diane replied. "I can't help you there. His behaviour is as mystifying to me as it is to everyone else." "Jess thinks he's been gambling again," Connie told her, seeing the look of resigned exasperation on Diane's face. "Oh, no," Diane said regretfully."Why?" "I'd have thought that was obvious," Connie put in quietly. "Oh, because of this whole mess with Jess and Zubin." Then, seeming to remember just who she was talking to, Diane asked, "With all due respect, Connie, precisely why are you getting involved in this?" "Isn't plain and simple concern for a colleague a good enough reason?" "Not in your case, Connie, no," Diane told her bluntly, and then appeared to regret it. "I'm sorry, showing concern for Ric and his gambling habit, really isn't something most people would expect to see in you." "Diane, as hard as it may be for you to believe, I am simply trying to do what I can for a friend, no more, no less." "Connie," Diane began a little carefully. "There's so much you don't know about Ric, about the kind of man he was before he kicked, before he became a relatively normal human being again." "Then I think you'd better fill me in," Connie prompted quietly. "The day I started working at Holby, was the day before he was due to get married, for the fifth time no less. Ric invited me out on his stag night with all the lads, and we ended up at a casino. Sam, clearly having more money than sense, had given him a cheque for twenty grand, to supposedly pay off some of his debts. I had to stand there, and watch him put the entire cheque on the roulette wheel, and lose. That isn't an experience I'm likely to forget." "Is that why he didn't marry her?" Connie asked, inwardly wincing at what Ric had done. "No, it was far more complicated than that, but I think that was the start in his really bad downward slide. When he walked into his office that day, and saw me sitting in his chair, I think he realised just what he was doing, or at least what he really shouldn't be doing. It hasn't always been easy for him, with me being here, and I swear that every time I've begun any kind of new relationship, his protective hackles have been visible from miles away. I'm not sure why, but he suddenly started to get worse about two years ago, a little while after Chrissie and Owen's baby died. Betting on horses, spending far too many nights at the casino, you name it. He sold his car to Zubin eventually, just to keep one of his creditors quiet, but I'm not sure how much of it actually reached them. Jess tried, Zubin tried, and I tried, but nobody could get through to him. I gave him all the support and encouragement I had it in me to give, but it still wasn't enough. Then, the New Year's eve before last, I did something really stupid, but that I didn't think twice about at the time. I gave him my credit card, to buy some champagne for the Keller and Darwin staff, and he immediately snuck off to his office, and blew three hundred and fifty quid in one go in an online casino. When he eventually told me at the end of our shift, he looked so ashamed, because he knew he'd finally betrayed my trust once too often. I wanted to give in, to tell him it didn't matter, but I knew he'd only do it again and again if I did that. It was like watching a car crash happening in slow motion, and there was absolutely nothing any of us could do to stop it. This wasn't Ric, not the Ric I knew at med school, not the Ric who had almost persuaded me to marry him. This was a Ric who really didn't understand how scary it was for every single one of us, to watch him getting closer and closer to doing something really reckless, and in the end, that's what he did anyway. He had a bet with himself on an operation, because the patient's father threatened to kill him if he failed, which he easily could have done. I didn't want him to go through with it, and neither did Zubin, but we were both there in any case. He was incredibly lucky to get away with that one, and he knew it, which is I think what finally made him see what he was doing. The point is, Connie, that if he has started gambling again, you're going to need superhuman strength, if you really think you're the best person to pull him out. Don't assume that you can succeed, just because the rest of us have failed." 

Connie sat and looked at Diane, trying to take in every word she had said. This was a picture of a Ric she didn't know, a Ric she wouldn't have cared to know if she'd been around in those days. "I have to try, Diane," She said eventually. "Because Ric's not the only one who's been going a little off the rails recently." "I know," Diane told her, feeling the urge to reach out and touch Connie's hand, but just managing to restrain herself. "And if there's one thing Ric is extremely good at, it's being there for someone else, and giving that kind of uncomplicated support that most men find so difficult. But Connie, slightly complex grief, and a ruthlessly powerful addiction, are two very different things. You deserve a medal, if you really do try to see him through this, but don't start if you can't finish." "Where does he usually hide when he's going through something like this?" Connie asked, wanting to get down to the practicalities. "On the roof," Diane said succinctly. "Oh, marvelous," Connie said disgustedly. "Talk about giving yourself a fairly handy get out clause." "He wouldn't ever use it, Connie," Diane tried to reassure her. "And just how do you know that?" Connie demanded acidly, wishing she hadn't wasted so much time in talking. "Ric might feel as bad as it takes to do something like that, but he wouldn't ever do it. I think that's half the reason he goes up there sometimes," She added with a slightly exasperated smile. "To beat the urge to do it. If he can make himself come down off that roof safely, he's won, at least for the time being." 


End file.
